Everyone Wants Stan Marsh
by Angelic Guardian
Summary: The title says it all. Includes Style, Stenny, Startman, Stutters, and some Stendy. Oneshot.


**Author's Note:** WHOO, TODAY'S MY BIRTHDAY! :D *throws confetti*

I wrote this oneshot as a present to myself, and just so you know, it has absolutely no point whatsoever. XD I just felt like whoring out my favorite character, that's all. Please note that this story was written solely for fun and amusement purposes, and therefore it is not meant to be taken seriously at all.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own South Park or any of its characters. All credit goes to the amazing creative duo, Matt and Trey.

* * *

_Everyone Wants Stan Marsh_

by Angelic Guardian

* * *

"STAN!"

The dark haired teen jumped at the sound of his name, but he instinctively turned his head in the direction it was coming from. He smiled in relief when he saw his Super Best Friend running toward him from the opposite end of the hallway.

"Hey, dude, what's up?" Stan asked as Kyle approached him.

As soon as Kyle reached him, he slapped his hands on top of Stan's shoulders and pulled him forward, crashing their lips together in a passionate, yet awkward, open-mouthed kiss. The action was so abrupt and unexpected that Stan's light blue eyes immediately widened out of shock. _'MY SUPER BEST FRIEND IS KISSING ME! THIS ISN'T FUCKING NORMAL!'_ was the thought that ran through his mind. He suddenly felt a warm, wet tongue trying to push its way into his mouth. He pulled away almost instantly.

"DUDE, WHAT THE FUCK?!" Stan shrieked loudly, panting and staring at Kyle wildly.

Kyle smirked, panting as well, because although he just mauled his best friend like a hungry animal, he couldn't help enjoying the look on Stan's face. He just looked so… scared. It was such a turn-on. He licked his upper lip in a seductive way, trying to control himself from jumping on Stan again.

"I've been wanting to do that ever since you hit puberty," Kyle said in a totally calm, yet strangely sexy tone.

Stan's mouth hung open, and his heart was racing a mile a minute as he continued to stare at Kyle with his wide eyes, all the while his mind was still desperately trying to register what just happened.

After about a minute of awkward silence between the two, Kyle finally got the hint that Stan was way too freaked out to actually speak. So Kyle, being the sexy, smart genius that he was, took it upon himself to break the silence.

"…Yeah, dude, I'm gay, in case you were wondering," he said casually.

Stan still said nothing.

"…All right, look, I know this a lot to take in right now," Kyle went on, "but dude, come on, are you really _that_ surprised to find out that I'm gay?"

Nothing.

"I mean, I thought I-"

"DUDE!" Stan interjected, somehow managing to find his voice, despite the fact that he felt like he was about to faint just a few seconds ago. "I'm not surprised because you're gay! I could care less about that! I'm surprised because YOU JUST FUCKING _KISSED_ ME!"

Kyle blinked at him dumbly. "So…" He paused, being careful to choose his next words. "You didn't like it?"

It was Stan's turn to blink dumbly, since he was completely caught off guard by that question. He looked down at the ground, his face starting to heat up. "I, uh…" he hesitated.

But, unfortunately, he was unable to continue with his statement because the bell conveniently started ringing. And Kyle, being the sexy, smart genius that he was, needed to get to class right away, because he was smart and sexy.

"We'll talk later, dude," he said, putting a hand on Stan's arm before running away.

'_Damn, he runs fast…' _Stan thought.

* * *

Stan sat in his English class, barely paying attention to what the teacher was saying, because being the sexy jock that he was, he didn't have to worry about something as meaningless and unimportant as school. Who needs to be smart when you're hot, anyway? His good looks and amazing athletic abilities would clearly be enough to get him a full-time scholarship to college.

But being a sexy, cool jock wasn't the _only_ reason Stan wasn't paying attention in class. After what happened in the hallway like five minutes ago, he couldn't stop thinking about Kyle. And that kiss. That aggressive, manly kiss. But Stan couldn't talk to anyone else about it, let alone admit that he actually _liked_ it, because he was a jock. Jocks aren't gay… that's just blasphemy!

He couldn't help it, though. Even though he was totally _not_ gay, Stan had to admit that Kyle was a damn good kisser. In fact, he was the best kisser ever. Way better than his slutty girlfriend, Wendy. Like, for reals, if he hadn't been so shocked, he probably would've let Kyle do a lot more than just kiss him… _a lot_ more… _A LOT_ more… right there in the hallway… in front of everyone… with no protection… because jocks don't get STDs, duh.

Stan was beginning to get all hot and bothered just thinking about doing it with his best friend, but he suddenly snapped out of his naughty thoughts when a piece of paper landed on his desk. He looked down at it, and then in the direction the paper was thrown in. He saw his hot, perverted friend, Kenny, sitting with his hands clasped together in his so-called 'innocent' manner. He met Stan's gaze and gave him a mischievous, flirtatious grin, one that caused Stan's heart to jump.

Uh oh.

Stan picked up the note and carefully unfolded it. He went pale upon reading what it said in Kenny's sloppy, barely legible handwriting:

_You wanna have sex? ;)_

It took Stan a few seconds to calm down, because he was pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack. Him and Kenny? Having sex? _Together?_ That's just blasphemy!

He hastily reached for his pen, scribbled something on the paper, and handed it back to Kenny.

_Dude, WTF? You're joking, right?_

Kenny chuckled underneath his parka.

_No way, man, I'm fucking serious. Come on, you're hot and sexy, I'm hot and sexy, so let's go have some hot and sexy man on men sex in the janitor's closet. ;)_

Stan looked like he was about to pass out.

_Dude! Stop fucking sexually harassing me!_

At that point, Kenny was starting to get a little impatient with Stan. He wanted sex, and he wanted it NOW, dammit!

_Come on, you're the star quarterback of the football team for fuck's sake. You get sexually harassed all the time. ;)_

Stan furrowed his eyebrows.

_Dude, no I'm not. I'm on the lacrosse team._

Kenny mimicked Stan's expression.

_The LACROSSE team?! WTF, man?! What are you, a faggot?! You're supposed to be a star athlete on the football team and be a total fucking stud and have a hot, chiseled, muscular chest that all of the girls wanna touch! ;)_

After reading that, Stan came to the only logical conclusion there was: Kenny was fucking stoned out of his mind. He was just about to ask him if he was, until he noticed something else about the note.

_Dude, why the hell do you put a ;) at the end of all your notes?_

Kenny grinned again.

'_Cause they make everything sound sexier. ;)_

Stan let out a small exhale through his nose, unable to hide the smile on his face. Because even though Kenny was totally coming onto him, Stan knew – hell, _everyone_ knew – that Kenny was notorious for being the horniest kid in the entire school. He was a manwhore. He didn't care if it was with a boy or a girl; he just loved sex.

He glanced back at Kenny, who winked at him playfully. Damn, why was Kenny so hot? Stan sat there, staring into Kenny's crystal clear blue eyes, wondering what it would be like to actually _have sex_ with him. God knows he was experienced, being a manwhore and all…

It would most likely be the hottest and sexiest sex ever.

Stan finally crumpled up the note and stuffed it into his pocket, deciding that all of this was no big deal. He was just going to pretend like everything was completely normal, and that he _wasn't_ just fantasizing about having rough, sweaty sex with Kenny… or Kyle.

* * *

During study hall, Stan was quietly reading a book about girls, because he's totally _not_ gay, remember?

Oh, shit, wait a minute… jocks don't read. They're too pretty to read!

Stan quickly closed the novel and chucked it across the room. It hit Butters right square in the head.

"Ow!" Butters cried, rubbing his head and bursting into tears.

"Goddammit, Butters, don't be such a pussy!" Cartman shouted. He wanted to smack Butters for being a total cry baby, but he was too lazy to get up. "Nice shot, Stan," he commented with a smirk.

"Um, thanks?" Stan said doubtfully. Was Cartman actually _complimenting_ him? No freaking way.

It must have been a sign of the apocalypse.

"Hey, Butters," Cartman whispered.

Butters sniffled and wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Wh-What?" he asked, turning around to face the fatass.

Cartman smiled widely, biting his lower lip in order to hold back a laugh. "Did you see that movie last night, _Gaywads Say No_?" he asked, about to explode.

"N-No," Butters replied.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"SHHHHHH!" the bitchy teacher shushed from behind her desk. She completely missed Stan throwing his book at Butters' head just moments ago because she was too busy being bitchy. Obviously.

"Dude, sorry, I didn't mean to do that," Stan said to Butters.

Butters started bumping his knuckles back and forth. "I-It's okay, Stan," he said, smiling. It was impossible for him to be mad at Stan. He was just too _pretty_.

Stan smiled back at him, and as he did, he noticed what a nice, kind smile Butters had…

Oh, God, _more_ gay thoughts? And about _Butters?_ Now that was really fucked up.

Both boys simultaneously looked away from one other, shamefully realizing that they were totally eye fucking each other just now.

Stan spent the rest of study hall picturing Butters naked. That didn't make him gay either because, hell, Butters was practically a girl. What kind of boy liked playing _Hello Kitty Island Adventure_ and agreed to dress up as a girl that one time just so all of his classmates could get a hold of the girls' super cool future telling device?

Not a straight one, that's for sure.

'_Hmm… I wonder what Stan would like look dressed up in a Hello Kitty costume,'_ Butters pondered, grinning slyly to himself as he imagined Stan with a big pink bow in his hair and huge Hello Kitty ears. Although he hadn't played that game in years, Butters had somehow developed a fetish for guys dressing up as fluffy white kittens wearing pink fairy costumes.

Because that was just hot. Like, really, really, ridiculously hot.

* * *

Later that day, Stan was walking in the hallway, on his way to his next class. He was so busy daydreaming about having sex with Kyle, Kenny, and Butters – all at the same, by the way, because jocks love orgies – that he wasn't watching where he was going, and he suddenly crashed into someone, causing him to violently fall backward onto the floor.

"Ow," Stan whimpered, lying on the ground, his entire back aching in pain. Of course, it shouldn't have hurt him _that_ much, considering he was a lacrosse player, and therefore used to tackling into people. But, for some reason, knocking into someone was extremely more painful than barreling through a bunch of guys with rippling muscles and large sticks.

"Holy shit!" Cartman exclaimed, squatting down next to Stan. "Are you all right?" he asked, deeply concerned for him, because Eric Theodore Cartman was definitely the most caring and compassionate person in the whole wide world.

"C-Cartman?" Stan inquired, looking up at his overweight, but also surprisingly handsome, friend. "What the hell are you-"

"Shh," Cartman said softly as he placed a finger over Stan's lips. "Don't speak."

Then, out of nowhere, a giant white horse came galloping into the hallway. It whinnied as Cartman stood up and climbed on top of it, his gorgeous brown hair blowing magnificently in the wind.

Stan raised one eyebrow, lifting up his head to look at Cartman, who was now inexplicably wearing silver, shining armor and holding a long sword.

"Dude, what the… am I fucking high or something?" Stan mumbled to himself.

"Come on, Stan, let's get the fuck outta here," Cartman said, motioning for Stan to join him on the horse.

Stan got to his feet, the pain having miraculously gone away. "Dude, Cartman…" he said slowly, looking from the horse to Cartman. "Where the _fuck_ did this horse come from?!"

The horse shook its flawlessly white mane.

"Whoa, easy, girl," Cartman said, attempting to calm the horse down by gently petting its head. "Look, Stan, don't fucking question me. Just get your ass on the horse!"

"Dude… I'm not getting on that horse," Stan said bluntly.

Cartman stared at him for a moment before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. "Fine," he said in defeat. He jumped off the horse, which galloped away and disappeared somewhere into the unknown.

Stan watched in sheer confusion, wondering where the fuck the horse just went. He turned back to Cartman, who was now magically wearing his normal clothes.

"Okay, um… wow. What the hell were you trying to do, Cartman?" he asked.

Cartman groaned impatiently. "I was _trying_ to impress you with my super awesome amazing white stallion and my hot knight in shining armor outfit," he explained.

Stan felt all of the blood drain from his face. "Wait, so…" He had to stop and think for a moment because his tiny little jock brain was having trouble comprehending what was going on. "Does that mean _you're_ gay for me, too?!"

Cartman frowned. "Well, yeah," he replied with a shrug. "Why else do you think I hate Kahl and Wihndy so much?"

"Because Kyle's a Jew and Wendy's a bitch?" Stan suggested.

"Well, that too," Cartman said, smiling to himself, "but mostly 'cause they're always spending so much fucking time with you, and it pisses me off 'cause I want a chance to hang out with you alone so I can finally convince you to bang me!"

Stan became quiet after that, allowing everything Cartman just told him to soak in.

"Damn," he said after about five minutes of silence. By now, they were both extremely late for class, but that was unimportant. "You, uh… you actually want to have sex with me?"

"…Yes," Cartman said warily, afraid it was some kind of trick, because Stan was notorious for being a crafty son of a bitch who came up with evil schemes all the time. Definitely not the other way around.

"Oh," Stan simply responded. "Well, I-"

Cartman hushed him once more, this time by firmly grabbing him by the shoulders.

Stan felt a weird sensation of Déjà vu.

"What are you doing?" he asked nervously, gazing into Cartman's super sexy and irresistibly enticing chocolate eyes.

But Cartman didn't answer him. Instead, he started leaning in toward Stan ever so slowly, his deliciously chocolate eyes fluttering closed, his soft, pink lips puckering up.

Stan froze in Cartman's grasp. He felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, but he didn't know what the hell to do about it. Cartman just kept coming closer. It was only a matter of seconds before he…

Then, for some fucked up, insane reason, Stan found himself closing his eyes, waiting in anticipation for their lips to touch…

"HEY!" a nameless, generic teacher screamed, popping his head out of a random door. Cartman immediately jumped away from Stan, but the annoying teacher kept babbling on. "What are you boys doing?! Where do you think you are, the parking lot of a T.G.I. Friday's?! Go to class!" He stepped back inside, slamming the door behind him very loudly for no reason at all.

Stan and Cartman looked at each other, both feeling embarrassed. Cartman cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um, well, I'm gonna… go to class, I guess. I'll see you later, or something," Cartman said, turning to leave.

"No, wait!" Stan yelled.

Cartman stopped and turned back around. "What?" he asked curiously.

Stan stared at him, unsure what he even wanted to say. He didn't know which was worse, the fact that he was just about to let Cartman _kiss_ him, or the fact that he was _disappointed_ that they didn't actually get to.

Fuck, what the hell was wrong with him today?

"Never mind," Stan said meekly.

Cartman stood there looking at him for a few more seconds. "…'Kay," he said, turning around again and slowly walking away.

* * *

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it was the end of the day. Stan was at his locker, hurriedly gathering his books so that he could get the hell out of there as quickly as possible and forget about this disturbing, fucked up day. Because it really was fucked up. Even for South Park, where fucked up shit happened literally every week. Every Wednesday night, to be exact. At 10:00 PM, Eastern time.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of a fourth wall breaking could be heard.

Stan slammed his locker door shut, his backpack now filled with pretty much every book he had. He didn't actually have any homework, though – jocks don't get homework, and even if they did, they would just get their super smart, super awesome best friend to do it for them.

Speaking of super smart, super awesome best friends…

"Hey, Stan," Kyle said, walking up to him. "Can we talk?"

Stan sighed. "Sure, dude, what's up?" he asked reluctantly.

"Well, it's just that," Kyle began, the expression on his face changing from a thoughtful one to a more determined look. "I think you should break up with Wendy."

"_What?_" Stan asked, turning toward Kyle, since he now had his full attention.

"You heard me. Dump that bitch and date me," Kyle said sternly.

"Dude!" Stan screeched, a horrified look on his face. "Why the hell should I do that?!"

"Well," Kyle said, a proud smirk making its way to his lips, "for one, I have a perfect ass."

Stan retreated a bit, the look on his face softening as he went deep in thought. It was true; he really couldn't argue about that. Gay as it was to think, he knew for a fact that Kyle's hot, tight Jew ass was a masterpiece that had most likely been hand carved by the almighty God himself. He secretly wondered how anyone resisted the urge to squeeze one of those luscious, perfect cheeks…

"Stan?" Kyle waved his hand in front of Stan's face.

"Huh?"

Kyle smirked knowingly. "Dude, you were totally just fantasizing about my sweet ass, weren't you?" he teased.

Stan blushed. "N-No."

Kyle's playful smirk only grew bigger. "Yeah, you were," he said, calling him out on his lie.

"Dammit, Kyle, let's have sex right now!" Stan randomly cried out.

"Whoa, really?!" Kyle asked, getting excited.

"Wait…" Stan stopped and thought about what he just said. "Which one of us is gay again?"

"_I_ am," Kyle said.

"Oh, right."

"So… you _don't_ want to have sex with me?" Kyle asked, disappointed.

"Well, dude, I… I'm not gay," Stan said. "I'm in love with Wendy, remember?"

Kyle shrugged. "So? Oh, hey, where the hell is Wendy, anyway? I haven't seen her at all today."

"She's sick," Stan answered.

"Ah," Kyle said, nodding. "How convenient." He smiled in that seductive way again and started inching toward Stan, who promptly backed away.

"DUDE!" Stan screamed. He was starting to get all scared and nervous again, which, in case anyone forgot, was a major turn-on for Kyle.

"Come on, Stan!" Kyle whined, desperately wanting to rip off Stan's shirt now. "Let's just fucking do it already!"

"No, Kyle!" Stan protested. He ran a hand through his perfectly shiny, amazingly soft, jet black hair. Man, dealing with your best friend hitting on you like this was really exhausting.

"All right, dude, listen…" he said, looking Kyle right in his sexy, breathtaking, electric green eyes. "Maybe one night, when I'm really, _really_ piss drunk, and Wendy is off making out with Bebe in the bathroom just like that one time when I caught her at Clyde's party last weekend, I'll let you feel me up and do other stuff in the car after I beg you to drive me home, since I know you don't drink 'cause you're not allowed to, and you don't want to anyway because alcohol damages brain cells or whatever. Just know that I'll have no memory of it the morning after, and I'll only let you do it maybe five or six times before I ever consider possibly doing it with you sober. Sound good?"

Kyle blinked, feeling absolutely dumbstruck. All he could do was slowly nod his head in reply.

Stan smiled. "Awesome," he said, reaching out to give Kyle a quick pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you later, dude."

And with that, he walked away, leaving Kyle standing there by himself. He shook himself from his surprised daze, looking back and forth to make sure that nobody else was around.

"YES!" Kyle screamed out victoriously. "I WIN!"

"Goddammit, Jew!" a voice that belonged to none other than Cartman shouted angrily.

Kyle turned to see Cartman and Kenny walking up to him from the far end of the hallway.

"Yeah, that's right, fatass," Kyle said, folding his arms over his chest. "I won."

"This is just bullshit!" Cartman complained. "I dressed up as a fucking _knight_ for fuck's sake! I totally deserved to win over you!"

"What about me?!" Kenny spoke up.

"Shut up, Kinny," Cartman said with no emotion in his voice.

"Yeah, well, you lost, fatass," Kyle said, ignoring Kenny completely. He extended his hand out, the palm facing upward. "Now pay up."

"W-Wait a minute, fellas," Butters said sheepishly. Where the hell did _he_ come from? "I thought the bet was that whoever convinced Stan to have sex with him first would win the fifty dollars."

"Yeah, exactly, and I won," Kyle said, growing annoyed. He just wanted his money already, because he was a Jew, and all Jews loved money. Even more than sex. Well… maybe equally.

"Well, but… you didn't actually _have sex_ with him," Butters elaborated. "S-So, uh, technically… you didn't win yet."

Cartman's face lit up upon hearing this. "Haha, YES!" he screamed in excitement. "You're goin' down, Jewboy! I'm gonna go change back into my super sexy knight outfit. Get your money ready, fags!"

"Damn," Kenny murmured as Cartman ran off. "I guess it's time for me to turn up the charm. Bitches find _this_ irresistible." He then reached up and pulled off the hood of his parka, revealing his super messy but hawt golden blonde hair.

Butters rubbed his knuckles together. "I-I'm gonna go put on my Hello Kitty costume!" he said enthusiastically.

The two blondes quickly exited the school, leaving Kyle by himself once again.

"Dammit," he said, feeling defeated. "I'd better hurry up and get the booze…"

* * *

Stan stood outside on Wendy's doorstep, freezing his ass off. He had already pounded on her door and rang the doorbell repeatedly, but there was still no one coming to answer the door. He realized he probably should've called earlier or something to let Wendy know he was coming over, but he just couldn't be bothered doing that. Because he's a jock. Gawl.

After about ten long minutes of waiting, a pale and disheveled looking Wendy Testaburger opened the door. Her usually long, perfectly straightened black hair was thrown into a sloppy bun. She was wearing a pair of pink cotton pajamas with matching fluffy pink slippers. Her nose was red and her eyes were glassy, and she started coughing as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.

"Oh, hi, sweetie," she said, her voice sounding raspy and broken up. "What are you-"

Stan cut her off right there by pushing his lips deeply into hers. Wendy moaned out of surprise, breaking off the kiss just as abruptly as it had begun.

"Stan, what the fuck-"

"Let's have sex," Stan said breathlessly. "Right now."

Wendy gave him an incredulous look. "Okay, um, what the hell is going on?" she asked suspiciously.

"It's hard to explain," Stan said, still breathing in and out heavily. "Let's just do it."

"But I'm-"

"I don't care that you're sick," he finished for her. "I just…"

He kissed her again, this time wrapping his arms around her body. Wendy shrugged internally, giving into his lips and kissing him back passionately despite being sick. She decided she would save her annoying, bitchy questions for later.

Stan was just glad to be kissing his _girl_friend.

See, he really _wasn't_ gay!

He was just bisexual. Sort of.


End file.
